


War breeds madness

by phoenixfruitbat



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Anger, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 14:17:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17045279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixfruitbat/pseuds/phoenixfruitbat
Summary: Stuck on Bahryn Zeb and Kallus are forced to look at the darkness' within themselves, twin flames that demand release...whatever the cost.





	War breeds madness

**Author's Note:**

> The concept of the "warriors kiss" is purely a cheap plot device for sloppy make outs. The thought behind it is that Lasat warriors can be patronised by suggesting they are not worth the battle with a kiss that occurs between breeders.

Kallus feels his whole form should be purple with bruises, yet it is his bruised pride that pains him most. This feeling of vulnerability, a shattered leg, the deep, unyielding cold – to have one’s life held in another’s hands…And not just anyone, kriffing hell, could karma have smacked him in the face any more firmly? To be saved by one who had likely suffered most at his hand…Kallus pushed the guilt and shame racking through him back into his depths – it was too painful to think of. It wouldn’t change the past. Could not change him from monster to man. He has reliably been able to force this shadow back time and time again, but now…the cold, the pain, the honour of this Lasat…he feels forced to look, to stare into the dark wound he himself cut, swathed, rent into his soul. Oh maker, he was so tired. So, so tired…

————-

As the moon grew darker and more frigid the more Kallus’ mood deteriorated. He was quite accustomed to extenuating circumstances. He was a trained imperial spy after all, a star ISB agent, with all the violent, exhaustive rigour that came with that, and he, top of his class. But the prospect of seriously losing a limb with little to no potential of help in sight…he deliberately looked away from his bruised, cracked, aching leg and up at the fading shafts of light playing on the cave ceiling. How is that he came to be stuck on a wasteland of a moon, in the backwaters of the Outer Rim with one of the remaining species of a planet he had personally helped destroy? The damn Lasat was luring him into a false sense of security, practically guiling him into sleep, most likely so that the Lasat could watch with satisfaction as his rough, black imperial uniform finally began to be consumed by sharp white frost as his final breaths came ragged from his sagging body. 

A heavy silence had settled in the ice cave like an old woollen blanket; no matter how one tried to ignore it’s itch one can’t help but scratch. Kallus couldn’t stand it anymore, if the towering man wouldn’t take the first step towards Kallus’ ultimate end then Kallus would take his life in his hands and at least get some answers in the time he had left. 

“So how did you make it off Lasan? Someone with the mettle” Kallus sneered imperiously “to become a rebel must have hidden away in some quiet corner waiting for it all to blow over. Very brave.” 

——————

Honour and anger warred inside Zebs chest. What would his fellow honour guard think if they saw him keeping the Butcher of Lasat alive? Killing one man isn’t going to bring back Mother, Marizesh, Grel, his people…karabast, why does it still hurt…it’s been years…killing one man won’t bring them back! It won’t lay their souls to rest. Is not the stitching that will force this wound to close…but maker…would it not feel good, feel right to do so. Vengeance…? Ashla…

Zeb closed his eyes tight against the thoughts. More blood on his hands wouldn’t solve anything. He knew…If only this man showed some scrap of agency, to halt the path future genocides. For there were bound to be a great many more with the Empire at the helm.  
And now they’re trapped on this frozen moon, for what?? So the agent could finish the job he first began?? The imperial bastard and his tenacity, to bully his way into yet another situation and bring Zeb close to his death. The bastard couldn’t have left the escape pod alone could he? What were his plans there anyway – a battle frenzy kicking in? Truly Imperials bred only monsters into their ranks.  
But look at him now and you would not see the valiant warrior that had bested him. Small, weak and pink. Helpless even. Curled up on the ice shelf against the frozen wind that ripped staccato through the small cave they had fought their way to. One could not quite see the Agent that had ripped like the wind through his people, felling them in his cold, unrelenting grasp.  
He had swept the human away from the creatures of the cave, into shelter. Well, he grumbled inwardly, Kallus had helped…a bit.  
But he, Zeb, had been the one to coax the transponder back to life. Yes, the guy had information that the rebellion could sorely use but what if the rebels, the Ghost, were not the first to receive the signal and stage a rescue party? What if an imperial vessel snatched them up? He would have to prevent Kallus’ return he realised…well, it was a good thing he didn’t hold any true regard for the guy, he was a good warrior yes but at the end of it all he was an imperial. Born and bred. He would not be actively saving him. He wasn’t. The rebellion needed the agent. 

Yet when that sneering voice oiled over him, oozing against wounds barely healed... Zebs control cracked. He snapped to face Kallus, incredulity plastered on his wide face. 

“You callin’ me a coward?!”

“Well, what other explanation is there?” Not waiting for a response Kallus continued “How you would have snuck past my troopers to escape I don’t kn-” Kallus is abruptly cut off as Zeb roars “I was off planet you nerf shite!! I had to watch my world crumble in your hands!!”. At this Zeb’s rage results in him grabbing Kallus by his breast plate and dragging him into the air

Voicing protest Kallus grabs at purple wrists as he is hefted upwards and slammed into the ice. 

“If you weren’t a miserable piece of shite right now I’d-“  
“What? Garazeb you’de WHAT?” Kallus retorts with menace, lip curling.  
Zeb slams the agent against the cave wall, harder this time, shouting inches from his face “Throw ya off the side of the forsaken cliff! Tear ya limb from limb” Zeb is shaking with fury, his eyes wild and his pulse racing. He breathes in suddenly, sharply, deeply. “Yer obsessed” he sneers, a menacing smile playing at the corners of his wide mouth “you, agent, did yer research, yes?”

“What are you jabbering about” Kallus glares, pushing his good leg against Zeb’s torso in a vain attempt to free himself. 

“Lasan” Zeb growls as he releases the agent to the floor for the instant it takes for the agent’s weight to rest on his bad leg, a rough, strangled cry escapes just before the man is hauled up again. “The warriors kiss.” Zeb hissed “You, are nothing but a helpless breeder”. And with that the Lasat presses his mouth against the Butcher of Lasan as a Warriors final act of dominance and scorn. The contact lasts for mere seconds, Zeb draws away and lifts Kallus from the ice wall only to smack him back against it.  
“You are HELPLESS!” *smack*  
“You can’t fight me” *smack*  
“You can’t hurt me” *smack*

For final emphasis the former royal guardsman humiliates the agent once more with another warriors kiss.  
A shocked, dizzied, riled Kallus responds with the only defence his addled mind can design: a bite. Hard.  
Blood washes into Zebs mouth. He growls. Pain. Pleasure – surprising, why, he shouldn’t, not this man. Rage.  
“Accept” smack “your” smack “defeat” He roars into Kallus’ face. “You have lost! You are inferior! You are weak!” Zeb grips the agents armour more fiercely. Bloody spittle now spattered against already freckled skin. 

The face roaring into Kallus’ has lost all sense or reason. It is a warriors face. A berserker, teeth pink with blood, lost in rage. Kallus has yet to fear Garazeb Orellios but now, as he struggles to free himself, his head spinning from the cracks of skull against ice, his leg throbbing with pain. Fear settles like ice in his chest. He screams, kicks, rages; scratching like a wildcat at the strong, lavender man’s face and arms. Kallus desperately pushes his bulk against the bigger man’s chest and turns his head away as the warrior controls him by pressing him bodily into the ice, stilling Kallus’ thrashing legs against the wall. 

Unable to assert his dominance with the agents face turned away to the wall the rebel bites into exposed neck. 

“AAARGH” Kallus roars as sharp canines pierce soft skin. Freckled hands push at furred face, forcing it away. Kallus’ fight has almost left him. His body pushed to its limits and one step farther. But Agent-021 does not accept defeat. An Imperial does not give in to domination. Kallus will not yield. 

Hands digging into short fur a scream rips from the agent “I. Am. Not. Weak!!” His fingers shift to lock into the Lasat’s sideburns and Kallus fights fire with fire, pressing a vicious kiss to lavender lips. 

Zeb presses his face into Kallus’ so the agents head is pressed into the ice. Nowhere to go. The fingers clawing at his beard tug down, painfully. Zeb’s face contorts into a snarl and he pulls the agents bottom lip into his own mouth and bites down. Pairing them with matching tooth marks. Kallus, weary and bloodied, has lost control. His mind reeling, pain arcing through his body from the dull ache of his leg to the smarting of his head. The pinprick of canines once more sinking into flesh…unwillingly, a soft moan gasps out. 

Zeb growls, deepening the kiss, presses his body more firmly against Kallus. The soft whimper from the agent fuels a smouldering flame Zeb had long ago tamped down. 

Kallus’ cold fingers loosen slightly in the Lasat’s soft beard – the texture more like Kallus’ head hair than bristly beard. Tears have coarsed down Kallus’ face – the butcher of Lasan. His guilt and shame threaten to overwhelm him. His body put through the wringer and confused by this strange turn of events. But there is warmth here. Warmth Kallus had not felt for a long time. 

The languorous kisses slow, the Lasat’s mouth moving to brush Kallus’ cheek, jaw, the smooth arch of his neck. 

Kallus’ head falls softly back against the ice “I…I don’t understand…what”  
Zebs deep voice rumbled harshly “Shut up.”  
Tremblingly Kallus’ stammers “I’m sorry Garazeb, I-“  
“I said. Shut. Up.” Zeb growled 

The agent closed his eyes, hands falling from soft beard to strong muscles of upper arm. Garazeb was so warm, his fur soft and…comforting…soothing. And the mans’ lips on the sensitive skin of his throat…Kallus’ breath shallowed. What could he do with this situation but go along with it? His brain seeming to have shut up shop and given in at this apparent lost cause. 

—————

Zeb had been shocked to find tears coursing down the agents face. There was clearly more going on here than either had supposed. “War breeds madness” the rueful thought passing through the haze. As Zeb’s battle frenzied, grief stricken mind calmed, his actions upon the agent became almost gentle. Adrenalin soaked bodies relaxed, accepting the insistent call of dopamine. Zeb has not allowed himself to feel...well, much of anything for a long time. And certainly not any form of desire. He was so different, so unlike everyone else…the loneliness of losing his people was one thing, but he had lost a future as well; love, companionship, and yes, sex. There were places he could go, where that itch could be scratched, but it’s not like there were ques of people lining up to be with a near 7 foot, purple furred…beast…a familiar poisonous feeling pooled in his stomach. No. No offers would come his way. But he would not take what he needed…would he?

————

With Zeb’s body pressed flush against Kallus’ there was an insistent force pressing back into the Lasats stomach. Neither man was calming in quite the way the Warriors Kiss intended. Once one had asserted dominance and one’s opponent had been demeaned, usually an uneasy truce was formed...or a commiseratory bouquet of flowers sent to the opponent’s family. Yet Zeb could not deny his own body’s response to this hardened warrior. As Zeb’s lips trailed across soft, cold skin he noticed a pink flush creeping up the agents freckled throat. Cautiously, testing the water, Zeb bared his teeth and rested his sharp canines against the agent’s throat. Rewarded with a heady gasp and large hands gripping his upper arms more tightly. The Lasat bit down softly.  
“Ah..” the agent moaned breathlessly.

Unwittingly, Kallus’ body responded; electricity sped to his fingertips and the agents head fell forward, his own mouth now inches from the Lasat’s long neck. A growl rippled out of Kallus’ throat as his mouth found Zeb’s shoulder – Kallus bit down almost enough to break skin. He felt more than heard the Lasat’s rumble of pleasure. 

Kallus was wantonly throwing fuel onto the fire Zeb had pushed into the dark recesses of himself. Yet, they were likely to die here anyway, the transponders signal was so weak. What did it matter if they used each other…if Zeb used him…if Zeb took what he wanted for a change…

**Author's Note:**

> The first fic I've ever published. I feel this story has a other chapter in it but I may not finish it. The next segment would be pretty darn brutal...


End file.
